


Strangers in the Night

by mistermoriarti



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Teenagers, Truth or Dare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-21 11:38:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3690840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistermoriarti/pseuds/mistermoriarti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who even decided to play this game? - truth or dare game oneshot, first kiss, s/o to tumblr user bombshellbutt for the inspo!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strangers in the Night

Whose stupid idea was this game?  


Oh, right. Spencer.  


Fucking Spencer.  


He knows too, oh, he knows, that’s why he suggested this game, the prick. With that all-knowing smirk, he knows what he’s doing and Ryan is trying to stop it, but maybe not because it’s what he wants, right? But now it’s too late, they’re all sitting on the floor and Ryan’s heart is beating in his throat and it’s fucking choking him. Brendon sits across from him and fuck, he can’t do this, oh no, he knows what will come out of this –  


“Brendon, you start.” Spencer’s voice cuts through Ryan’s panic, making him still. With all the power invested in him, he shoots Spencer the filthiest look, really putting everything behind it, and the bitch just winks at him.  


“Hmm. Pete.” Brendon’s eyes are lit up, and Ryan can’t stop staring. “Give Patrick a show.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively (how does he do that?) and before Patrick has even had a chance to protest, Pete is on his feet and pulling off his shirt. Shane whistles, and Pete starts to move in front of Patrick, who’s beet red but also egging him on, throwing coins from his pocket at him. Pete tosses his shirt in his face laughing, then sits back down, completely content with being shirtless.  
Ryan probably stares too long at Pete’s abs, but wow. He’s the polar opposite of Brendon; short, stocky, well-toned muscles and vaguely resembling a small bear. Yet still the most rational, heartfelt people Ryan had ever met. He’s so engrossed in their form that he misses the first time his name is spoken.  


“Ryan?”  


“What?”  


“Your turn.” Spencer is smirking again, but Ryan only smiles devilishly. Two could play at this game.  


“Jon.” The attention shifts to him, and for a brilliant, brief moment, Spencer looks frightened for what’s to come.  


I’m not the only one with a love interest in the room, asshole.  


“Give Spencer a lapdance.” Ryan hears the words come out of his mouth, but all he can register is Spencer’s ashen face and wide eyes. He looks at Ryan desperately, gaze pleading and obviously trying to apologize, but Ryan instead pulls the ultimate move and winks back at him. Mind as well get ahead of the game; Spencer will eventually make him do something with Brendon, this way he can say he got Spence first.  


Jon, slightly red, gets up with a mild chuckle and then resettles down on Spencer, who has gone from white to crimson in seconds. Brendon is laughing, and Ryan looks away from what will surely go down in their history to watch him. Brendon’s eyes shut almost all the way, and laughter lines appear at their corners. Two rows of perfectly white teeth lie behind full, pink lips, and his hair – his dorky hair – flops around wildly. Ryan tears his gaze away to eventually enjoy what he’s set upon Spence, and he’s not gonna lie: it’s pretty hot. Has Jon done this before? Spencer’s hands have absently found their way to Jon’s hips, and Spencer’s eyes are leaving Jon’s. Finally, after what seems to be a moment too long, Jon laughs and pushes Spencer over, getting off of him. Ryan may be out to humiliate Spencer, but he isn’t cruel, so he ignores the obvious boner Spence has. He notices the look on his bandmate’s face and inwardly winces.  


Here it comes.  


“I’ll go,” Spencer says, crossing his arms haughtily. “Ryan.”  


Flinch. “Yeah?”  


“Kiss Brendon.”  


Ohs and ahs fill the room, but all Ryan can hear is the crashing of his heart. His vision goes blurry, and he’s aware of shaking his head and forced laughter.  


“And none of the pussy pecking shit, this has to be the kind of kiss you give someone when you’re too drunk to think,” Spencer continues, driving the last nail into Ryan’s coffin, the fucker. He wishes he was actually drunk now, that way he could claim to forget this in the morning. Brendon floats into view, and he’s the only thing that’s crystal clear. He’s still laughing, and how the hell could he think this is funny? Suddenly he’s scooting closer, and all the air that way in between them is gone and Ryan can’t fucking breathe, and their knees are touching and that’s all he can think about. It’s like sticking your finger in an electrical socket, the kind of supercharged numbness that spreads slowly if you don’t take it out, but Ryan isn’t going anywhere so the feeling spreads from knees all the way up his legs. Brendon is staring at him nervously, smiling, and Ryan hadn’t even thought about what he must feel. Is he as scared as Ryan? Jeers of “Go on, just do it!” drift into Ryan’s awareness, but it’s muted, like he’s on the verge of passing out. Every sound, sight, anything that isn’t Brendon is wrapped in cotton, muffled, unimportant; god, is he really going to do this? They can’t stop looking at each other, smiling stupidly. Then:  


“Oh, for god’s sake.”  


A hand on Ryan’s back is pushing him forward, and time is slowing. Brendon’s face is getting closer to his, and all the air in the room gets sucked out –  


And then their lips touch.  


Brendon gasps slightly, and Ryan’s whole body shudders so hard it nearly hurts. It starts slow, tentative, like strangers in the night saying hello, lips moving gently. Ryan goes into sensory overload, taking in everything at once: Brendon’s smell, his warmth, every point of contact between them. It gets to the point where Ryan can’t take it, so he pushes against Brendon’s lips with his tongue, wanting more, and Brendon gives it to him, sighing against his mouth and fuck. He sweeps over his teeth, and their tongues meet and Ryan has to tangle his fingers in the carpet to keep himself grounded. He tastes like cigarette smoke, and something more that Ryan can’t place but is distinctly just him. Brendon’s hands lift and settle on Ryan’s hips, light at first but then fingers digging into them painfully, so Ryan grabs the front of his shirt and pulls him even closer.  


His hands close around the fabric and their mouths are now nearly uncomfortably smashed together, but Ryan is addicted. He can’t stop, doesn’t want to, and the way Brendon is kissing him back tells him he doesn’t want to stop either. Brendon’s hands are sliding up Ryan’s shirt now, and the contact sends him over the edge. Pushing hard at both his chest and mouth, Ryan manages to make Bren topple over backwards. He makes a mixed sound of surprise and protest, but before Ryan knows what he’s doing he’s straddling Brendon’s hips and their lips are reconnected, forgetting about their audience. He’s close but not close enough, and Ryan fists the front of his shirt again and Brendon holds the back of his head to keep their mouths together. Nothing else matters anymore, nothing –  


Someone coughs loudly, louder than normal, and both of them break apart, staring into eyes that are all pupil, stretched and overtaking their irises.  


“Well.” Spencer, who now looks like he might have regretted his decision. Ryan quickly climbs off of Brendon, acutely aware of just how many people in the room are staring at him. The tension in the room is palpable, but something has changed between him and Brendon, something that he can physically feel: they’re at peace now. They both know that kiss wasn’t all for show – it meant something.  


And maybe they can capitalize on that later.


End file.
